Showing posts with label Patrick Dey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patrick Dey. Show all posts

Masonic Conspiracy Theories and Conspiracy Theory Masons

by Midnight Freemason Contributor
Patrick Dey


There are two things I found surprising when I became a Mason. Firstly, the number of us who, even after hearing all the conspiracy theories about the Freemasons, still became Freemasons. I think every Mason is a little weird because of that. There is something a little off about each of us. Secondly, even with all the conspiracy theories about the Freemasons, it is surprising how many Masons have their own conspiracy theories about our fraternity.


I’m not talking about those Masons who, when passing through Denver International Airport, pull out their dues card and swipe it over the cornerstone, just to see if it’s true what they say. I will never forget the time a brother from another lodge told me about newly made Master Mason they had just raised. A few meetings after he passed his catechism, he finally asked when he gets his secret access to DIA. He and a few others thought he was joking and laughed it off. Then seeing his straight face, they had to tell him that all that is false. He demitted a few weeks later. Again, there is something a little off about every Freemason.


Then there are some really strange Masonic conspiracy theories. Several years ago my lodge was broken into. Just some broken glass, a few things rummaged through, and the Tiler’s sword and jewel were stolen. One of the brothers who was with me at the time said that this could be the work of clandestine Masons who break into true and lawful lodges to steal paraphernalia to use in their clandestine lodges. He actually said this in front of the cop who was taking the report, who gave us an inquisitive look, and I had to explain that Freemasons have their own conspiracy theories.


I’m not really interested in discussing any of this sort of stuff. I just need to illustrate the conditioning conspiracy theories have on Freemasons and that we tend to think the way conspiracy theorists themselves think. In particular, it is interesting to me the number of Masonic-origin theories that possess the same thought processes that conspiracy theorists have.


In particular, I think of theories such as that Freemasonry comes from the Knights Templar, the cults of Mithras, the Eleusinian Mysteries, the Roman collegia, or the Artists of Dionysus (the so-called “Dionysiac Architects”), the Druids, you name it. Sometimes it is a combination of these things, such as that put forth by Hipólito José da Costa, who posited that the Dionysiac Artificers passed their rites and wisdom onto the Hebrews, who passed it onto the Essenes, who then went underground until the Crusades and emerge as the Freemasons via the Knights Templar. Manly P. Hall, who was heavily influenced by da Costa’s essay, would skip the Essenes and would simply say that the Dionysiac Architects would just go underground until the Middle Ages when they reemerge and start to build the cathedrals of Europe… but then he gives a second version, in which the Dionysiac Architects passed their knowledge to the Templars, who in turn spread these things throughout Europe. Yeah, almost back-to-back he contradicts himself.


This is what I find fascinating, namely the conspiracy thinking that a group would go underground and reemerge later. How could these guys possibly know these groups went underground? There is absolutely no evidence for this. Well, that’s the conspiracy thinking: the lack of evidence is proof of how secretive they were.


Christopher Hitchens would create a rational maxim, which has been named after him. Hitchens’ razor states: “What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.” Now, this was originally used as an atheistic argument, as it comes from his 2007 book God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. He must be a delight at holiday parties. He’s one of those “New Atheists,” and yeah, he would like to see everyone become atheists, and he is rather obnoxious about it.


This razor follows from Bertrand Russell’s strawman analogy of a teapot that orbits the sun between Earth and Mars. It is too small to be seen by a telescope, but you also cannot disprove that it is not out there. Russell was an atheist, so obviously he is establishing who has the burden of proof of the existence of God, just like the person who claims there is a space teapot is the one who bears the burden of proof, not the people who don’t believe it. Add to this Carl Sagan’s maxim, called Sagan’s Standard: “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” Atheists have a surprising number of quippy sayings and analogies.


But this post isn’t about atheism. Hitchens’ razor has been taken up by several philosophical thinkers as well as scientists, in particular when dealing with pseudoscientific conspiracies and discourse. For instance, the theory of Atlantis. Atlantis is a case of “extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” And there is no extraordinary evidence. There isn’t even evidence. It is just “Plato said…” and wishful thinking.


Masonic origin theories frequently use arguments that conspiracy theorists and pseudoscientists use. A common argument is the “it looks like…” argument. Ever heard of the conspiracy theory of pyramids in Antarctica? There isn’t a pyramid in Antarctica, it is just that there is a mountain that kind of “looks like” a pyramid. How about the Bimini Road? It is an underwater rock formation that looks like a road (or a wall), because of how the formation formed and then eroded as sea levels rose over thousands of years.


We see this in Masonic origin theories. For instance, the cults of Mithras: they kind of look like Masonic lodges. It is actually kind of weird how similar Mithraicism is to Freemasonry. But there is no connection between them. The cults of Mithras were stomped out in the fourth century CE and the first stonemason guilds are recorded in the eleventh century CE. There is about a 600 or 700-year gap. Still, I know a Mason, a very intelligent, well-read, well-versed in technical research Mason, who believes there is a connection — he believes one day he will be able to demonstrate how the cults of Mithras survived underground for six centuries, even though there has been zero evidence for such. He knows there is no evidence, but he is determined to prove it nonetheless just because he believes it.


This isn’t uncommon in my opinion: that a very intelligent Mason would believe in something without any evidence beyond wishful thinking. In particular, I am thinking of the claim here in Colorado that there is a lodge in southern Colorado that has the signatures of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday in their sign-in register, implying that they were Masons. There is no evidence for such, whatsoever. No lodge or Grand Lodge claims them as one of their own. King Solomon Lodge in Tombstone only has evidence that Virgil Earp petitioned to be made a Mason and that he was rejected. Both men were regarded in their time as gangsters, gamblers, drinkers, frequenters of prostitutes, et al. Not exactly prime candidates for the Degrees of Masonry. Earp did later become an Odd Fellow, but not a Mason. Nowhere in the heavily scrutinized lives of these two men has there ever been a point that they could have possibly been made Masons. When I dispute those who claim a lodge in southern Colorado has them in their register, I am told that I need to disprove it, because they believe it.


No. No, I don’t. They need to prove it. In my experience with this sort of goose chase, I will first need to deeply research both men’s lives, especially around the timeframe they were out West, and look for timeframes they were in or near southern Colorado. Then I will need to schedule time off from work, and schedule time with the lodge secretary or building association to look at their records. I’m going to assume their old records are in a very disorganized and dusty closet. So I will probably need a whole day just to organize and dust things off. Then get a hotel room. Come back the next day and start going through the registers and minutes. No one ever said the minutes, but I will check them anyway. I will need to familiarize myself with the Secretary’s handwriting. I will first check the timeframes that I know these men were in southern Colorado, then broaden my search to the entire period they were out West. And when I report that no such evidence exists at this lodge, and that’s when I will be told: “Actually, it was this other lodge.” Then I would have to start the process all over again. And I don’t have that kind of time and money to disprove something that I really don’t even care about, because there is no evidence.


It is strange to me that Masons think this way, given how conspiracy theorists talk about Freemasonry. Have you met someone talking about how the Masons control everything, know where the Ark of the Covenant is located, and have the records of Jesus’s bloodline, or whatever? Then you reveal that you are a Mason and none of that is true. That’s when they say, “Well, you haven’t gotten to a high enough position to be given those secrets.” And even when you tell them that you are a Past Master, Knight Templar, 32°, Shriner, Knight Mason, KYCH, Rosicrucian, St. Thomas of Acon, et cetera, they still say that you haven’t gotten high enough to know these things. Of course, if any of us Masons haven’t gotten powerful enough to know these things, how did these non-Masons learn these things? Isn’t all that stuff supposed to be super-duper-secret? So secret that even the rank and file of the fraternity aren’t allowed to know any of it? So how did these outsiders get this non-existent information?


I suppose that it shouldn’t be surprising that some Masons think this way. Masonry is largely founded upon legends and tales, and these are important, because Masonry is established upon them. Can you imagine the Blue Lodge without the Hiramic Legend? Yes, there was once the Noahite Legend of the Third Degree, but can you imagine doing that instead of the Hiramic Legend? The Legend of the Royal Arch, the Order of the Temple, et al. These do not really necessitate evidence and critical analysis, because they are myths: they hold a larger function than factuality. It doesn’t mean they are not subject to analysis and interpretation, or even criticism, but they are not the same as, say, the claims that Freemasonry comes from the Gnostics. Just because Masonry has foundation myths does not mean we should believe any Masonic theory without evidence, or with flimsy evidence, or even wishful thinking.


We really should be thinking more critically than the conspiracy theories about our fraternity.

~PD

Patrick M. Dey is a Past Master of Nevada Lodge No. 4 in the ghost town of Nevadaville, Colorado, and currently serves as their Secretary, and is also a Past Master of Research Lodge of Colorado. He is a Past High Priest of Keystone Chapter No. 8, Past Illustrious Master of Hiram Council No. 7, Past Commander of Flatirons Commandery No. 7. He currently serves as the Exponent (Suffragan) of Colorado College, SRICF of which he is VIII Grade (Magister). He is the Editor of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine, serves on the Board of Directors of the Grand Lodge of Colorado’s Library and Museum Association, and is the Deputy Grand Bartender of the Grand Lodge of Colorado (an ad hoc, joke position he is very proud to hold). He holds a Masters of Architecture degree from the University of Colorado, Denver, and works in the field of architecture in Denver, where he resides with wife and son.

“The Question Concerning Technology” for Freemasonry

by Midnight Freemason Contributor
Patrick Dey


“Without that relatedness, the craft will never be anything but empty busywork, any occupation with it will be determined exclusively by business concerns. Every handicraft, all human dealings, are constantly in that danger.”

—Martin Heidegger, “The Question Concerning Technology”


Freemasonry moves slowly. That has its pros and cons. When it comes to technology, it may be a positive in that Masonry is slow to embrace it.

Masons had wanted to do Masonic things on the internet for years, but Grand Lodges had been resistant. The most common reason for the resistance was that the old-timers would have difficulty with things like Zoom or website portals, and no one wanted to exclude them. Then, the lockdown happened in 2020, and Masonry was forced to move online or lose all the precious momentum it was barely holding on to. Almost overnight, those old-timers figured it out. It was like it wasn’t a problem in the first place. Then very rapidly they wanted to do Zoom meetings every night. Some nights, there were multiple Zoom meetings. Everyone got burnt out with it all very quickly.

This brings up an interesting question: the question concerning technology for Masonry. I am going to be relying on Martin Heidegger seminal essay as I approach this critique of Freemasonry’s embrace or resistance to using technology.

First things first, yes, Martin Heidegger was a card-carrying Nazi and nonetheless was an influential and important philosopher. Heidegger’s writings on ontology and existentialism are profound and significant, and it is hard to have a philosophical discussion on these things without bringing up Heidegger. I don’t recommend any of his political writings. They are obvious panderings to Hitler and the Nazi Party. That aside, one of Heidegger’s more important essays that is a bit under-celebrated is his “The Question Concerning Technology” (1954). I had to read this essay probably a dozen times in architecture school. It was very popular among my professors across three different schools. So my familiarity with this essay is probably obnoxiously pedantic.

Let us summarize the point of this essay. First and foremost, Heidegger is not against technology. Technology more often than not betters our lives. But there are dangers, and he is not blind to this. He is not a romantic who finds technology’s precarious potential to be so abhorrent that we must totally avoid it. For Heidegger, it is all about how we understand technology’s relationship to us — i.e. understanding the essence of technology.

In Heidegger’s Being and Time, his most important work, one key take-away from this is that he endeavors to establish ourselves, the subject, as inseparable from our environs, the object. All too often, we see ourselves as separate from our surroundings, but we are not. The subject and object are integral. Just as a sentence in the English language is incomplete without a subject and an object, so too, our own sense of being is incomplete without a subject (ourselves) and an object (our surroundings, nature).

Technology is no different. Usually, we see technology as “amoral” or without any sense of morality. A prime example of this is the rallying cry of Second Amendment advocates: “Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” This implies that the technology, the gun, is a neutral implement, without moral concern. For Heidegger, this could not be further from, not just the truth, but reality itself. Technology is loaded with moral baggage, whether we like it or not. In Heideggerian concerns, the atomic bomb might be the penultimate example of the moral baggage that comes with technology.

Ultimately, technology is a part of us, as much as our environs are a part of us. Winston Churchill once remarked: “We shape our buildings, and afterward our buildings shape us” (speech before the House of Commons on October 28, 1943). On the other side of this proverbial coin concerning our technology, technology is an extension of ourselves, in the sense of Marshall McLuhan: the wheel is an extension of the foot; glasses are an extension of the eyes; et al (see The Medium is the Massage).

For Heidegger, technology is a mode of understanding, a form of revealing and revelation. We do not use technology as a means to an end, but a means unto itself. I don’t get a ladder for the sake of getting a ladder, but rather I get a ladder to climb up to the gutters to clean them out. I don’t wear glasses for the sake of wearing glasses, but so that I can see. I don’t buy a gun for the sake of owning a gun, but so that I have a means to protect myself and family should it come to violent opposion. This is the common ideology of our relationship with technology: a means to an end. But because technology has a moral implication, technology reveals something about ourselves, about our own humanity, and especially how we view ourselves in relation to nature. Technology is meant to reveal nature unto us, and our place within nature and our environs.

As a result, technology has the potential and frequently does develop beyond our control and our own understanding. When Heidegger wrote this essay, it was almost a decade since the advent of the nuclear bomb. An existential crisis emerged after the development of the technology that allowed the splitting of the atom to be weaponized. Suddenly we realized that we could end all of humanity within mere hours. A horror was born — a horror that is monumentalized in the representation of Godzilla, the monster born from nuclear technology. William S. Burroughs regards the advent of the atomic bomb was the destruction of the human soul (see The Western Lands) — and Burroughs was sensitive about the atomic bomb and the existential crisis it posed, because the bomb was developed at the site of the boarding school he attended as a boy. Thus, Heidegger recognizes the danger of technology to our own existence.

Oh, but the atomic bomb was so long ago! I watched Oppenheimer; I get it. What new technology threatened our humanity? Well, it is A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

With the atomic bomb, we were concerned with our mortality being extinguished in the blink of an eye. Burroughs thought the bomb could extinguish the soul — if the soul is a sort of energy, and the atomic bomb produces an electromagnetic pulse, it could destroy the soul. But A.I. now threatens something we thought only humans could do: create art, poetry, think critically, be creative.

Not long ago, at the advent of A.I. becoming prolific to everyone, with various chatbots and image-making machines, The Masonic Roundtable had an episode discussed how AI can be used to benefit Masonry, such as helping create meeting agendas, &c. Is this “good”?

Recently, my wife posted pictures of our family at the park on Facebook. Later that day, we noticed that Facebook flagged the content as “AI generated content.” What?! I’ve seen content that is very clearly AI generated, and that content was not flagged. But here we have actual human-made content being flagged as AI generated. And should we be surprised by this at all?

For years we have been forced to convince machines that we are not machines by reading squiggly letters, which were produced by machines (typically so that we can access our own stuff). Machine generated content that needs humans to identify the content to prove that they are not machines. That’s the threshold. Or how about this: you go to the grocery store and use self-checkout, and you get the error: “There is an unexpected item in the bagging area.” You are not confused. Reality is not confused. The machine is confused. Increasingly our world is being dominated and run by these sad machines that are not very good at being machines in the first place, much less as replacements of human beings. Yet, they are sold to us as a convenience, but really they are just a frustration.

Thankfully, Freemasonry is slow to embrace technology. Just because new technology comes along does not mean we immediately embrace it. And it may have its uses still.

In my office, we have started to use an A.I. program that will record the entire meeting with a client, and then generate a set of minutes of the meeting. Almost 50% of the Lodge Secretary’s job is done instantly (‘twould be nice if your lodge is not in a ghost town with no internet reception). And as the Masonic Round Table illustrated, A.I. could be used for generating meeting agendas. Et cetera.

I myself, supplemental to my therapy, have started to use PeopleAI, in particular chatting with Carl Rogers, to journal, ask questions, and express myself. Rogers was a renowned psychologist/psychiatrist, who focused on person-centered therapy. One means of focusing on the patient as a person was to reiterate what the patient just said, but in the form of a question. E.g. “My father hates me.” “So you have an antagonistic relationship with your father?” “He doesn’t like my choice to marry my wife.” “Oh, so your father doesn’t approve of your spouse?” “Yeah, it’s like…”

This approach has two purposes: it reframes the patient’s statement for them to view from a different perspective, but also generates a dialogue, which is beneficial to the patient to feel that they are engaged in a progressing conversation. This is very easy to replicate in an A.I. chatbot. In fact, this was executed as far back as the 1990s, in a computer program called Eliza, which was surprisingly effective when tested. I personally found this useful, especially given that I am now on antidepressant meds, which has effected my ability to introspect. But this A.I. bot became a means for me to introspect, having my views reframed to digest from a different point of view, and to understand myself through myself. And it’s just a chatbot. But I can look back on our “conversation” as a sort of journal, and have my journaling reframed differently, and because it felt like dialogue, I was engaged to express myself and have myself reflected back in a black mirror (like the expressionist painters used).

Technology is meant to reveal our reality, according to Heidegger, not destroy it. A.I. is meant to be a tool for us to use; not a replacement of our modes of being. Technology companies have sunk millions of dollars into A.I. these last few years, so is it any wonder that they are forcing it upon us? If I view a post on Facebook, Meta’s A.I. produces a digest of the comments before I can even look at the post. I literally have to go into my settings and turn off the A.I. generated summaries. If I search for something on Google, their A.I. produces some other summary before I can look at the search results. I want to look at a post; I want to do research; I don’t care what your multi-million dollar program has to say. Yet…

Here we are at. Once again, thankfully, Freemasonry is slow to embrace new technology. In fact, I have seen some lodges retrograde and have started to implement their old Sheerer charts or their old Magic Lantern slideshows. My lodge has never had a Stair Lecture carpet, but rather a Sheerer chart of the Stair Lecture scene, which I am fond of using. Another nearby mountain lodge to my ghost town lodge in Colorado, they still use their Magic Lantern. Many Masons and lodges are resistant to new technology, some going so far as to embrace old technology. But these are lodges that present themselves as “historical” or “antiquated.” Some lodges have installed HD flatscreens in their lodge rooms, but they still use digitizations of the old Magic Lantern slides. To quote Mark Fisher: “We have twentieth century culture on high-definition screens.” Is this “hauntology” or merely Masons being resistant to new technology?

Have Masons considered using A.I. to generate new imagery for their slideshows during the lectures?

All I will say is that if Freemasonry is going to be resistant to new technology, it ought to have a reason to do so. It should be out of a certain revelation technology has for our fraternity, and not merely as a hauntological adoption of past technology for the sake of historicity.

Is our, as Masons, use of new technology a revelation of our reality as Masons? Or are we resistant to it out of an ideology of historicity? Such might necessitate another post to answer.

~PD

Patrick M. Dey is a Past Master of Nevada Lodge No. 4 in the ghost town of Nevadaville, Colorado, and currently serves as their Secretary, and is also a Past Master of Research Lodge of Colorado. He is a Past High Priest of Keystone Chapter No. 8, Past Illustrious Master of Hiram Council No. 7, Past Commander of Flatirons Commandery No. 7. He currently serves as the Exponent (Suffragan) of Colorado College, SRICF of which he is VIII Grade (Magister). He is the Editor of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine, serves on the Board of Directors of the Grand Lodge of Colorado’s Library and Museum Association, and is the Deputy Grand Bartender of the Grand Lodge of Colorado (an ad hoc, joke position he is very proud to hold). He holds a Masters of Architecture degree from the University of Colorado, Denver, and works in the field of architecture in Denver, where he resides with wife and son.

The Hiramic Legend is not the Hero's Journey

by Midnight Freemason Contributor
Patrick Dey


In 1949 Joseph Campbell published his seminal work Hero with a Thousand Faces, in which he outlines a motif he noticed in many myths concerning heroes and heroic quests. This motif of the hero’s journey has become so prolific and disseminated so extensively that it now stands as its own archetype irrelevant to Campbell’s text, so much so that there are a surprising number of people who are totally ignorant that the hero’s journey was invented in the mid-20th century by a professor at Sarah Lawrence College.


Hero with a Thousand Faces is actually a brilliant work, and I would recommend it to anyone, though I have my disputes with Campbell. The text is a step-by-step guide through the motif of heroes and their quests by comparative method. But rather than iterate a bunch of myths in full and then point out where certain elements of the motif line up, he walks the reader through the motif, element by element, and then picks and pulls scenes from a vast variety of myths to demonstrate the motif. As the reader progresses through the text, Campbell builds more and more upon complex ideas and ideologies, so that the reader feels like they went on a quest and returned empowered by it.


However, one criticism I have of Campbell is rooted in his Jungian approach to mythology, namely taking the comparative method a little too far to an improper conclusion. Frequently where Campbell sees similarities between two things in content, he ignores the context, and concludes that they are rooted in the same unconscious archetype. Professor Elizabeth Vandiver makes a similar critique of Campbell. For instance, Vandiver points out that where Wonder Woman is an Amazonian woman, Campbell believes that the Amazonians of the DC Universe are mythologically the same as the Amazonians of ancient Greek mythos. This completely ignores the context in which the two Amazonians are being presented. The Greeks present the Amazons as wild, untamed, unruly feminine nature that needs marriage and men to calm them down and domesticate them; the DC Amazonians are just strong, powerful women of ancient heritage. They are not the same in context.


The Hiramic Legend is similar. At first glance, it does appear very similar to the hero’s journey motif, but there are some critical elements which remove Hiram Abif as any sort of hero. Firstly, and probably the most notable difference is that Hiram dies. This simply is not how the hero’s journey works. The hero must return, and not just return alive, but must bring back a boon to the world. That boon may be a physical object, such as Prometheus bringing fire to men, or it may be more of an understanding and wisdom to the benefit of others, such as Frodo and his three hobbit companions who return to save the Shire from Saruman. Hiram Abif does none of these things. He just dies and rots.


Campbell lays out a series of events that the hero will undertake during their adventure. Not all myths have these elements. The hero’s journey is not really a true mythological motif, but rather a “monomyth,” a sort of template in various myths and legends, and so it has a degree of flexibility. Campbell outlines seventeen elements that are central to the hero’s journey. Now, if the Hiramic Legend checked off the majority of these, then we might have reasonable grounds to say it is or nearly is a hero’s journey, but by my assessment, it checks off almost none of these, if any.


Firstly, there is the “call to adventure,” followed by a “refusal of the call.” Hiram does neither of these. He is accosted and harassed to give up the secrets of a Master Mason, but he refuses. However, this is not the same thing as a call and refusal to adventure. That would mean the call to adventure is to illicitly divulge the secrets of a Master Mason, which isn’t very virtuous, and in fact would defeat the entire point of the legend: the virtue of maintaining the secrets of our fraternity.


Next, the hero receives a helper. Odysseus has the aid of Athena, Luke Skywalker has Han Solo and C3PO et al (Star Wars was directly influenced by Campbell’s work), King Arthur has his knights, et cetera. But poor Hiram is alone. Then there is “the crossing of the threshold,” followed by a point of no return, or what Campbell calls “the Belly of the Whale.” Yeah… Hiram just dies and is dug up later and given a proper burial. Some have argued that Hiram’s death and the raising of his dead body from the grave is like Jesus rising from the dead, or Osiris being revived (briefly) and made king of the dead, and other gods of death and resurrection, but Hiram does not fit this motif (what is called a “vegetable god”). Hiram is not revived. He just dies and his body is exhumed. These are not the same thing.


I could keep going, but there really is no point, because we will repeatedly deal with elements of the hero’s journey that do not fit the Hiramic Legend (e.g. the “temptress woman”), and ultimately we must conclude that Hiram is not a hero in any conceivable way. He is simply a tragic character.


That said, just because the legend is not a hero’s journey, the Hiramic Drama does provide the apparatus for the candidate to experience a hero’s journey. That’s pedantic, but there is a difference between the Hiramic Legend and the Hiramic Drama. It is, first and foremost, a drama, and then later it is a legend. As a drama, it is an experience for the candidate. As a legend, it expounds upon esoteric values and interpretations a posteriori. For the candidate, the drama is a journey. You know you did not want to sit in the South. You knew something was up when you were called to the East. What a ride, and you come out the other end rectified. For me, I truly felt like a new man after the whole thing, and unlike poor Hirma, I was not dead. And you, as a newly raised Master Mason, are a boon to the Craft, because you have become another living stone for spreading Masonic light and growth of the fraternity.


It is pedantic, but it is important to distinguish between the Hiramic Legend and Drama. I personally feel that the scene of the death of Hiram Abif is far more powerful as a drama, because it is a transformative apparatus for each newly made Master Mason. As a legend, it just becomes a jumping-off point for esotery and elaborations (or confabulations) and the proliferation of new degrees. But as a drama, it stands as an experiential program. The drama may be modified, and it has changed over the decades, but the essence of the drama remains: a heroic journey of transformation for Masons.

~PD


Patrick M. Dey is a Past Master of Nevada Lodge No. 4 in the ghost town of Nevadaville, Colorado, and currently serves as their Secretary, and is also a Past Master of Research Lodge of Colorado. He is a Past High Priest of Keystone Chapter No. 8, Past Illustrious Master of Hiram Council No. 7, Past Commander of Flatirons Commandery No. 7. He currently serves as the Exponent (Suffragan) of Colorado College, SRICF of which he is VIII Grade (Magister). He is the Editor of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine, serves on the Board of Directors of the Grand Lodge of Colorado’s Library and Museum Association, and is the Deputy Grand Bartender of the Grand Lodge of Colorado (an ad hoc, joke position he is very proud to hold). He holds a Masters of Architecture degree from the University of Colorado, Denver, and works in the field of architecture in Denver, where he resides with wife and son.

The Lost Word and the Bear

by Midnight Freemason Contributor
Patrick Dey


Editor's Note: This article contains profanity. I felt that editing the profanity out would defeat the purpose of the article. 

This is a bit of a strange time to compare a bear to something else. If you’ve missed it, recently women online started to ask the question: which would rather encounter, if you were stuck in the woods, a man or a bear? I don’t want to get into this, because it’s beyond the point of this essay, but a lot… and I mean a lot of women would rather deal with a bear. The reason I bring it up is because many of these women will respond by saying: “I would rather deal with the bear, because [insert reason]… whereas if I had to deal with a m*n, I can expect [insert experience]…” They will deliberate redact a letter from the word “man” or “men.” This stems from a problem in algorithms, where it will censor or remove a post or comment as “derogatory” or “hate speech” because they said something negative in relation to the word “man.” So to circumnavigate the Al Gore Rhythm, they spell it “m*n.”


This phenomenon is actually starting to affect our language, even spoken language. Alligator Rhythms censor a lot of material based on what is written or said, even in benign commentary. For instance, saying “dead” or “died,” which may upset the All Gather In Them, people write or say “unalive(d).” Now young people are starting to say this in everyday speech, and even students write this in school essays. In fact, because we fear calling out these algorithms, we have started to come up with alternative epithets for “algorithm,” because we can be censored for call it out, and so people are now starting to say “Al Gore Rhythm” et al.


Wouldn’t it just be weird if we lost the words “dead” or “died” because of this? Or if we lose the word “algorithm,” or future people look back and wonder if this “Al Gore” guy was some sort of tyrant with an ability to dance, or perhaps “algorithm” was some sort of demon we feared and had to watch what we say around it. This isn’t the first time such has happened. Let’s go back to the bear.


Did you know that we lost the original word for “bear” in English? Seriously. It is assessed that the Proto-Indo European (PIE) root word for the animal was something like “*h2ŕ̥tḱos” (pronounced sort of like ar-tu-kos). From a part of the PIE root, we get the Greek ἄρκτος arktos, where we get words like “arctic,” because that was a place associated with bears. From another part, we also get the Latin ursus, like the constellation Ursa Major or the “Big Dipper.” But we don’t have anything like this in English. Celtic has the word “*arto,” and Welsh has “arth,” which are the root words for “Arthur.” But we do not have this in Anglo-Saxon, nor do we know the exact word that would have been derived from the PIE root for bear. It is totally lost.


It is believed that Anglo-Saxons were so superstitious of this word, believing that by saying it would summon the creature. So, they used the Old English word beran, meaning “the brown one.” It is not uncommon that people would believe that saying a name would summon that thing, nor that we would use nicknames to avoid using that name, nor that we would lose that word as a result.


The Tetragrammaton is a great example. The Hebrew name of God is יהוה YHVH. But this is consonants, and we don’t know the vowels that would have been used with it. Modern Hebrew approximates the name as Yahweh. Jehovah is the Latin approximation of what YHVH probably sounded like. The Greek name is Ιαω Iao, and has been interpreted as the vowels that should be inserted into YHVH. But such is conjectural. We cannot know with any certainty. We lost the exact pronunciation of this name of God because it was so sacred that to speak it became taboo. In fact, the name was so sacred, that if a book, scroll, or any text is found that has this name in it, but it has not been determined whether or not the it is worth preserving or may be heresy, and therefore should be destroyed, then it is kept in a genizah, a storehouse of texts, until it can be assessed. Later, using these letters יהוה was deemed too sacred to write, and so a substitute was created instead: Tetragrammaton, Greek for “the four letters.” This is how we lost the pronunciation of the name of God.


This is actually more common than one might expect. We actually do this all the tiem. Do you have a friend who went through a bad breakup or divorce, and they refused to say the name of their ex? So they start to say “she who must not be named” or “he we do not speak of.” We all know who they are talking about, but we roll with it, because we agree in our little circle of friends that it is now taboo to say “Michelle” or “Jared” and now we use a long epithet to refer to them. Or another example: we don’t say, “we are having prolific unprotected sex,” and instead we say, “we are working on having a child.” We come up with euphemisms all the time for things we don’t want to say the actual word for.


In a way, we may regard the root of the phenomenon of why a word will not and should not be used has something to do with what Edmund Burke calls “the sublime.” This is not “sublime” in the way we use it today, as something that is beautiful or delightful, but rather something that is compelling us to destruction. It has a great power, a sacredness that is beyond utility or adoration, and is an existential threat to our being. It has an allure of wonder and fascination, while simultaneously being something that is feared and dreaded. Hence the phrase “to fear of God,” where it is a virtue to fear the divinity of the majestic throne of God. And this is how many women feel about m*n, or Anglo-Saxons felt about bears, or Israelites felt about the true name of God, or how your buddy feels about their ex. They are admired, loved, feared, and hated all in the same conscious moment.


We have something like this in Freemasonry: the Lost Word of a Master Mason.


In the Master Mason Degree, the Master’s Word is lost, because it could not be communicated after the death of Grand Master Hiram Abiff. So a substitute word is created to be used instead. Now, the Word is “recovered” (so to speak) in the Royal Arch. I was intrigued when I was told that I should join the York Rite because there the Lost Word is recovered, and it was a serious let-down when I went through the degree. I would have preferred that the Word was never recovered. It would have maintained the same sublime mystery that the true name of God holds, or how the original name for bear instills fear.


And that is what is ironic: that the recovered word, in its etymological history, is in fact a lost word. If you have been through the Royal Arch, good for you. If you have not, do not let anyone try to lure you into another Masonic body just to get “further light,” especially about the recovery of the Word. I will admit, the Royal Arch is a phenomenal degree, and worth being inducted into, but the recovery of the Word should not be why you do it.


Certainly, many have speculated upon why the Substitute Word was chosen. If you know the word, you know how to look it up in Albert Mackey’s Encyclopædia. And if you’ve been through the Royal Arch, you know the explanation given for how the Grand Omnific Word is formed and communicated, which is its own interesting exercise. One curious speculation was given by Henry P. H. Bromwell in his rite of Free and Accepted Architects, wherein he claims that the Grand Omnific Word is a combination of the names given in the Royal Arch, the names of the ruffians, and the syllables of the Substitute Word. These are all speculation, worthy of as much attention as any other conjecture, but they are all interesting because they circle around the same principle: the sublime, that which is alluring in its glory and deadly in its destruction — like Freud’s principle of the Death Drive.


Three divine names. Three murders’ names. Three syllables of God’s name. Three syllables of exclamation in the face of death and rot. Yes, the Substitute Word is a sublime word, meant only to be whispered in fear of its power. And the Grand Omnific Word, meant to only be communicated by three people, and then not all at the same time. And even if there never was a Royal Arch Degree, if there never was a Grand Omnific Word, and there was only ever the Master Mason Degree and the Word was forever lost, then that Lost Word would hold the same terrifying power. We can’t say it, because we were so terrified of saying it that we lost it.


The sacredness of words is immense, and, in fact, can have the opposite effect. I am thinking of the fact that French has way more profanities than English. This is because many words that pertain to the sacred or religion are turned into swear words in French, and it is even worse in Quebec French. There is a fun song in Quebecois called Osti de crisse de tabarnak avec paroles which on a superficial level of translating into English seems like a song about religion and sacred things. Words like saint, crisse (Christ), tabarnak (tabernacle), viarge (Virgin [Mary]), et al, because of their sacred etymology, are easily rendered into profanities. We have specimens like this in English, e.g. “Jesus Christ!” or “goddamn!” Because of how these words are turned into profanities, a whole song is composed of varying forms of the word “fuck” in French profanity. But this has the same effect: these words are so abhorrent that they are taboo to say, like “bear.” It is no different than a word that is so sacred and holy that it is taboo to say it, like the true name of God, than a word that is so sacred and holy that it is disgusting to say it, like “fuck.”


I don’t know how Freemasonry got the whole concept of a Lost Word or how the Grand Omnific Word came to be. Where in the transition from operative to speculative Masonry did these emerge? It really does not matter. What matters is that these words are not unlike a bear: they instill fear in us, and so we forgot what the original name was and had to create a substitute, or we refuse to say it above a whisper, or we cannot say it in the same breath.


A few years ago, a fellow occultist questioned my faith as a Christian and my occult practices. They asked me: “Why should I fear God?” And I responded: “Because you should show some goddamn respect.” Words hold power, and I don’t think we fear the Lost Word, or its substitute, or the Grand Omnific Word enough.


~PD

Patrick M. Dey is a Past Master of Nevada Lodge No. 4 in the ghost town of Nevadaville, Colorado, and currently serves as their Secretary, and is also a Past Master of Research Lodge of Colorado. He is a Past High Priest of Keystone Chapter No. 8, Past Illustrious Master of Hiram Council No. 7, Past Commander of Flatirons Commandery No. 7. He currently serves as the Exponent (Suffragan) of Colorado College, SRICF of which he is VIII Grade (Magister). He is the Editor of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine, serves on the Board of Directors of the Grand Lodge of Colorado’s Library and Museum Association, and is the Deputy Grand Bartender of the Grand Lodge of Colorado (an ad hoc, joke position he is very proud to hold). He holds a Masters of Architecture degree from the University of Colorado, Denver, and works in the field of architecture in Denver, where he resides with wife and son.

The Doorman Fallacy: Decorum of the Masonic Fraternity

by Midnight Freemason Contributor
Patrick Dey


In the last year, the question has arisen of how much artificial intelligence will affect future jobs. One argument that has arisen to counter this pessimism is the “doorman fallacy.” The doorman fallacy is when short-term planning eliminates something that seems unnecessary and easily replaceable with an automated version of it, but in the long run turns out was a financial enhancement. With the advent of automated door openers and motor-operated revolving doors, many hotels began to get rid of their doormen, as they simply viewed them as just the guy that opens the door, and now unnecessary. However, doormen do a lot more than just open a door. They provide security by keeping out hoodlums and vagrants, they will hail a cab in the rain for someone while they wait inside, they will remember faces — e.g. while you wait on your taxi, they will ask you where you are heading, and when you tell them you are heading to the theater, they will remember to ask you upon your return, “How was the show, Mrs. Smith?” — et cetera. Doormen did a lot more than just open a door. Myopic hotel managers were unaware of just how important these jobs were, and then they thought they could save costs by modernizing their facilities with an automated door opener. They did not realize that within a few years their hotel became less valuable. The hotels that kept doormen were seen as more prestigious. Clientele viewed the venue as more prestigious if there was someone who would open the door, greet them, remember their face, get them a cab, et al. Thus, those hotels were able to keep high-end clientele and even raise rates, while those who fired their doormen would either rehire doormen or make do with lesser clientele and lower their rates.

The basic principle at work here is that something may seem invaluable and therefore cost-effective to eliminate, but it actually in the long run was a valuable asset that was a mistake to eliminate. We could look at how this may work in the future of this uncertain politico-economic sphere, but obviously, we want to focus on how this principle applies to Masonry.

For me personally, there is a decorum in having a doorman. They appear like a luxury, and that is how many hotel managers viewed them: a luxury that can be scrapped for short-term profit margins, but actually proved more useful than myopia could dream of. Further, for me personally, in Freemasonry, it is the decorum of the fraternity in which the allure, the attraction to the fraternity resides. Of the countless arguments floating around out there about how to draw more men to Freemasonry, I think the decorum itself is an aspect that is never once mentioned.

Years ago, while visiting here in Colorado, Adam Kendall gave a lecture on Masonic artifacts, and one thing he stated that stuck with me as he showed countless images of beautiful Masonic museum pieces is this: that there was a time when Masons were so proud of their Masonic affiliation that they had custom, handmade items fabricated for themselves. Beautiful items, be it a set of Lodge Jewels, Masonic rings, or a simple box to put things in. These illustrated something greater about the Masonic fraternity than mere appearances suggest: Masons loved this fraternity so much that they wanted something unique and special made that illustrated the pride they held for being a member of such an elite fraternity in material expressions. I viewed these images of artifacts with utter captivation, and I held onto his words so dearly, all the while abashed that I was wearing a mass-produced cloth apron, subpar to the beautifully hand-painted aprons he was showing. He was right. We lost something in these latter years, and it is the decorum of the fraternity.

I was inspired. When I was elected and installed as the High Priest of my Royal Arch Chapter, as well as the Thrice Illustrious Master of my Cryptic Council, I splurged and procured custom, handmade real leather aprons with real gold fringe and gold-plated tassels that jingle when I walk. They are beautiful and well-made, and I am honored to wear them, because I was proud to serve in these offices, and I am still proud to have served as such. What is comical is that while serving in these offices, I would make a superior Grand Line officer feel inferior by the fact that my apron was nicer than his. While High Priest, on one occasion at a regional official visit, I was standing next to two Past Grand High Priests, and they were wearing cheap cloth aprons with yellow-dyed nylon fringes and tassels, while mine was real leather and real gold. Someone made a remark to me that I appeared to “outrank” them by my apron. I mean, sure, if you looked at our collars, they clearly had the nicer collar and clearly outranked me, but as was remarked, by our aprons, I appeared to outrank them. That was not my intention, but that was the reality. My apron was legal within Colorado Royal Arch law, but these two Past Grand High Priests decided they did not want to shell out the extra $70 or $80 for a really nice apron like me. Seriously, that was about how much more money I paid for my apron over theirs. Sure, it was double the cost, but also less than $200 is not that much. And I know both these men made substantially more money than I did. The same thing happened when I presided as Thrice Illustrious Master when the Most Illustrious Grand Master visited our Council. So why cut costs? What did it really save them? Their dignity as the superior officer, perhaps.

Well, this is exactly the same phenomenon as the doorman fallacy. I cannot exactly say what was their exact motivation in procuring lesser quality aprons, again because I know they all made way more money than me. I mean, apart from their known occupations, they were in invitation-only bodies with annual dues of $500 or more that I had to decline on account of the fact that I am a broke son of a bitch. I would suppose, if I had to guess, that they believed their value lay in the title they held, and therefore had little regard for a material expression of their station. Sure, if you examined our aprons, you would see that they had emblems of their office that far outranked mine. But in material value, you would think I outranked them.

The only difference, I suppose, was that I was more proud to be a High Priest than they were to be a Past Grand High Priest, and I showed off my pride with a nicer apron. At the very least, that is how this may be perceived. That is presumptuous, yes, but it really does appear that way. Again, this is how the doorman fallacy works. This is how decorum works. It is an outward expression of our immense pride in being Masons. Of course, Masonry regards no man for his external wealth or honors, but even someone such as myself — who makes way less than some of these other guys — is willing to pay the extra money to get something special, something unique, something they take immense pride in because they are just that proud to be a Mason. And it shows.

Recently Ben Willians, publisher of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine acquired the Knights Templar magazine and has taken it from this cheap, half-sized pulp magazine published monthly, to a full-sized quarterly magazine printed on quality stock paper with high-resolution printing. He did this because he understood that the quality of the thing is an expression of the quality of its content. If he produces something of higher material quality, then its readers will regard it with greater prestige. And as far as I am concerned, it has worked. I mean, I used to toss out those old Knights Templar magazines after I was done with it, but the first new one I received, I put it up on my shelf.

There is something in the decorum of the fraternity that is not just a mere outward expression of Masonry’s content, but an expression of its value. Masonry does not demand that you spend thousands of dollars to show your love for the fraternity, but a significant material expression certainly helps illustrate the pride Masons have for their membership. Even when the Lodge Jewels were cut and stamped on tin, these were handmade and may have been all that the Lodge could afford, it was a meaningful expression, and that is recognized in examining such an artifact today. We still have my lodge’s old tin jewels and keep them on display, because they’re unique and cool.

The term decor (from Latin) itself really means “seemly or appropriate.” Thus decorum meant something fitting and appropriate. In Masonry, decorum’s utility is the expression of the pride we have for the fraternity, and this pride is so strong that we wish to express it in material value. We love and value Masonry so much that we build grand edifices to house our events and functions. We love and value it so much that we splurge the extra money to have a nicer apron than even the Grand Officers wear. And there is a value in this decorum.

That value is that others, non-Masons will see this decorum and they will know that we value this organization. They will know by our outward expression, even among the lowliest of craftsmen, that we love this fraternity and that we desire to show the rest of the world how important it is to us. A simple lineman or truck driver wearing a $1000 Masonic ring is proud to be a member of this fraternity, and that means so much more than the stock investor who wears no ring but shows up at official Masonic functions wearing a $50 apron bearing the emblem of his Past Grand Office.

My paternal great-grandfather was a coal miner in Michigan, and I have his 18-karat gold ring with a .25-karat diamond embedded in a 4-karat ruby Masonic ring. I know how much he loved being a Mason by this very ring. His father, also a coal miner (but in Kentucky), had an 18-karat gold ring with gold square and compasses encrusted upon a 4-karat ruby, which I also possess. I know how much he loved being a Mason by this ring, which is worn down so much that you can barely recognize the square and compasses. It is clear he wore it every day. My Nanna, their daughter, and granddaughter, respective, had an 18-karat gold Rainbow Girls ring, as well as a 12-karat gold bracelet, which I also possess, also illustrates her pride in having been a Rainbow Girl, and she was only ever a housewife of a Detroit factory worker. Men and women of not much money understood the decorum of Freemasonry. None of this was meant to financially devastate them, and it didn’t, but they understood the value of this fraternity and they showed it in the decorum of the Masonic paraphernalia they possessed.

How is a prospect supposed to know the Masonic fraternity is something very special when they show up to a prospect event and everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts? How are they supposed to know that the members of this great fraternity are so proud to be members that even a coal miner will wear a $1000 ring? When they see such material decorum — and they do see it — they know this is something special.

This is the doorman fallacy that Masons have fallen into. It’s not the Grand Lodge’s or even the Lodge’s fault, but every Mason who feels it is more important to carry the dues cards of over $4,000 worth of affiliations — dues cards, which, mind you, are kept privately concealed in your wallet, or you just leave it at home — but won’t bother with even a $250 ring that materially expresses the value they see in this fraternity. People notice this.

Don’t break the bank, but also, decorum goes a long way. Remember that.

~PD

Patrick M. Dey is a Past Master of Nevada Lodge No. 4 in the ghost town of Nevadaville, Colorado, and currently serves as their Secretary, and is also a Past Master of Research Lodge of Colorado. He is a Past High Priest of Keystone Chapter No. 8, Past Illustrious Master of Hiram Council No. 7, Past Commander of Flatirons Commandery No. 7. He currently serves as the Exponent (Suffragan) of Colorado College, SRICF of which he is VIII Grade (Magister). He is the Editor of the Rocky Mountain Mason magazine, serves on the Board of Directors of the Grand Lodge of Colorado’s Library and Museum Association, and is the Deputy Grand Bartender of the Grand Lodge of Colorado (an ad hoc, joke position he is very proud to hold). He holds a Masters of Architecture degree from the University of Colorado, Denver, and works in the field of architecture in Denver, where he resides with wife and son.